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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477013">dream a little dream with me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/muItifandomjess/pseuds/muItifandomjess'>muItifandomjess</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>White Collar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Bakery, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:53:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477013</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/muItifandomjess/pseuds/muItifandomjess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Neal never escapes from prison and never strikes a deal with the FBI. Instead, he starts a bakery.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>151</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Can you believe that Neal canonically owns a bakery??? It’s like they want us to write a bakery AU... so that’s exactly what I’ll do. Full disclosure, this fic is a WIP and I am working on it as I go. I plan to post a new chapter every few days. Let’s see what might have happened if things went slightly differently...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey, honey,” El calls as he walks absently into the kitchen, lost in thought. Her hair is piled on the top of her head in a messy bun and she is pleasantly flushed from the heat of the oven. She looks happy and radiant, and Peter pulls her in, burying his face in her hair. Her arms wrap around him and he sinks into her embrace gratefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, hon,” he says, pressing his lips to the side of her head. “Chicken and rice?” he asks, sniffing the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles at him and nods. “You got it,” she confirms. She kisses him soft and chaste, and then pulls back, her brow furrowing as she looks at him closely. “Something’s wrong,” she says. It’s not a question, so he doesn’t bother denying it. He sighs and sits heavily on one of the stools by the counter, and El leans in close, resting a comforting hand on his back. “What is it?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neal Caffrey was released today,” Peter tells her, his voice carefully devoid of any emotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>El is silent for a moment, and Peter can feel her studying him. “And?” she prompts. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter sighs, putting his head in his hands. “Absolutely nothing,” he says, “and that’s the problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>El hums and wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder. “You keep expecting something to happen,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter can only nod in response - he doesn’t quite trust himself to say anything. He doesn’t know if he could explain his tangled emotions if he tried. His own life has been so tied up with Neal Caffrey for so long, it feels strange when it’s not any more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s done his time,” Peter says. “It’s not my business. Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>El kisses his cheek. “I think you’ve just spent so long chasing him you’re not sure how not to any more,” she tells him. “Give it time, Peter. Neal is a free man now, making his own choices. You just have to learn to let him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter sighs and squeezes her hand. “I know,” he says. Neal Caffrey is out there somewhere, and the very fact that he hasn’t yet done anything to wind up on the bureau’s radar is new and unexpected and strangely exciting. Peter supposes it’s no surprise that Neal will always be keeping him on his toes - even when he’s doing nothing at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Boss?” Diana says the next day, poking her head into his office. “I think you should see this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s holding her laptop, looking oddly hesitant, and he frowns at her, waiting. She hesitates a moment, biting her lip as she studies him, and then she lets out a breath, seemingly coming to a decision. “It’s Caffrey,” she says, and Peter draws in a breath, his pulse suddenly racing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s he done now?” he asks, his skin tingling with excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the thing,” Diana starts. “It’s… well, he apparently owns a bakery now? And he’s started a food blog.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s eyebrows shoot up. “An ex con with a bakery and a food blog?” he says, incredulous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diana nods, her lips twitching. Peter stares at her for a moment, and then they’re both laughing, unable to hold it in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neal Caffrey, baker,” Peter says, wiping his eyes when he comes up for air. “Now this, I have to see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the best part, boss,” Diana tells him, putting her laptop in front of him, displaying Neal’s new blog in all its glory. “The bakery is right here in Manhattan - The Greatest Cake.” She smiles at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You could even, I don’t know, drop by on your lunch break one day. It could be a complete coincidence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A coincidence, sure,” he says shaking his head. “Thanks for filling me in, but I think I’ll leave him be for now. He hasn’t done anything after all, has he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diana tilts her head, studying him, and Peter carefully schools himself, making sure his expression is entirely nonchalant. “Well, no,” she agrees, “he’s just becoming an internet sensation, that’s all.” She stands up and smiles at him. “You should really check out the blog,” she says. “It’s surprisingly entertaining.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Caffrey is always entertaining, whatever else he’s up to,” Peter says, shaking his head. “Thanks, Diana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods and lets him be, helpfully leaving her laptop on his desk. He waits until she’s back at her desk, and then he pulls the laptop forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>New York’s Best Eats,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the blog proudly states. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brought to you by the proprietor of The Greatest Cake, which does, in fact, have the greatest cake anywhere.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Peter shakes his head and scrolls down to the first post. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What do you do when you’re out of prison for the first time in four years?</span>
  </em>
  <span> the post reads. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your girlfriend left you a few months before your time was up, so you’ve got no one waiting for you. You’ve got no plans and nothing to do. Well, the answer is obvious. You put down roots. You get to know this wonderful city all over again. Maybe, if you’re very lucky, you start a bakery. This is the life of Neal Caffrey, (alleged) forger, art thief, con man, and now? Baker. Stick around for the story - it’s going to be a wild ride.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter smiles and leans back in his chair, staring thoughtfully at the picture of Neal smiling back at him from the page. He does some fast thinking and then closes the laptop decisively, standing up and sliding into his jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey boss,” Diana calls as he passes. “Lunch break?” she asks, raising her eyebrows suggestively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter gives her a stern look, which of course only makes her smile wider in response. “Yeah,” he says as casually as he can manage, “I’ve been craving something sweet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diana purses her lips, looking entirely unsurprised. “Don’t we all,” she says, and Peter gives her a brisk, businesslike nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves with a spring in his step - for the first time in four years, he’s going to see Neal Caffrey.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter visits Neal at The Greatest Cake. Banter ensues.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Because I love the idea of Peter being all “you’re up to something and I will find out what” and Neal humoring him simply because it’s their way of flirting and he finds Peter Too Cute To Handle when he’s in Investigative Mode. You won’t find any of this overly dramatic I trust you/I don’t trust you stuff here!</p><p>Also: this past month of quarantine I’ve written more than 51,000 words, which is a new record for me! I’d gotten out of the habit of writing since September, so it’s been nice to be writing again. Here’s to another month of writing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After a short walk, Peter finds it - The Greatest Cake. This is where he’ll find Neal Caffrey. He takes a deep breath, and turns the doorknob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door tinkles charmingly as Peter walks in. There’s classical music playing from an antiquated radio over in the corner. It sets him instantly at ease. It’s soft, unobtrusive, and soothing - charming you from the moment you walk in. How exactly like a con man, Peter thinks, shaking his head in an almost fond kind of exasperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steps inside, looking around with interest. At first glance, The Greatest Cake seems like any other bakery, with rickety tables spaced evenly around the room, a bookshelf stacked with books standing in the corner, and vases filled with flowers scattered about. There’s art displayed on what seems like every square inch of the walls - and it’s all local, Peter discovers when he leans in for a closer look. Apparently, 15% of the bakery’s proceeds go to funds supporting art students.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a few customers already sitting down, but they seem entirely uninterested in his arrival, glancing up when he enters before looking back down at their phones or laptops. They’re mostly college-age, Peter notes, filing the information away for later. Interesting - doesn’t seem like Caffrey’s usual crowd, but then again, that could be the point. This could surely be a front for something or other - Peter knows that it would be a grave mistake to ever underestimate Neal Caffrey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He draws up to the counter and takes a moment to inspect the case, which is filled with baked goods of all kinds. There’s bars, brownies, cakes, cookies, pies, croissants, even fancy meringues that make Peter’s mouth water. He honestly hadn’t intended to actually buy anything when he decided to come here, but looking at all this spread out before him is making him reconsider. He’s always had a sweet tooth, after all, and it wouldn’t be so bad, even if he is investigating on the sly….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he’s dithering by the counter, a woman with long brown hair breezes out of the kitchen and gives him a distracted smile. “Can I help you?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter looks up, his mouth open, but any response he might have had dies on his lips as he comes face to face with none other than Alex Hunter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stare at each other for a long moment, both of them wide eyed and openmouthed. Alex recovers first, shaking herself out of it before turning to shout over her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neal, your Suit is here,” she calls. She turns to smile at him, somehow managing to seem both sweet and threatening at the same time. “Mr. Important but Ugly Suit,” she says. “He thought you might come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter blinks at her. “It’s nice to be anticipated,” he says, and then frowns. “Important but ugly?” he repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs, looking him up and down. “I see what he means. Big bad FBI Agent trying to look menacing in an ugly, ugly suit. Not bad, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrows his eyes. At some point he seems to have lost control of the conversation. Alex Hunter is good, he’ll have to remember that. “I’m not a big bad anything,” he says. “I’m-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex waves a hand, cutting him off with a look. “Peter Burke,” she says, sounding annoyed. “Yes, yes, I know. I take it you also know who I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He straightens up, and looks her in the eyes. “Alex Hunter, suspected associate of Neal Caffrey, con man, forger, and art thief.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All alleged, of course,” interrupts an amused voice. “I might remind you that you only got me on bond forgery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter bites back a smile and looks up to see Neal Caffrey standing before him. After all this time, he’s practically within arm’s reach. Neal smiles wide, brilliant and charming. It’s the smile of a con man, and Peter sternly tells himself not to trust it for a minute. “Hi, Peter,” Neal says, and Peter’s resolve crumbles the moment he meets Neal’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neal,” he says, keeping his face carefully blank. “Steal any paintings recently?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex’s lips twitch, and she pats Neal’s shoulder as she edges around him. “And that is my cue,” she tells him. “Neal, do you want to take a break? It looks like the Suit has some things on his mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neal gives him a crooked smile, his eyes bright. “Nah, Peter’s just naturally suspicious, that’s all. If he had something to bring me in on, he would have done it already. Right, Peter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter represses the urge to sigh. He feels a headache coming on already, and it’s been less than five minutes. Neal Caffrey will do that to you, he knows by now. “Don’t gloat, Caffrey, it’s not a compliment,” he grumbles, avoiding the other man’s knowing gaze. “I’m still not convinced this isn’t all a front for something or other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neal’s smile only grows wider in response and he leans forward, his hands planted on the counter, his dark hair tumbling into his face. “Oh Peter,” he all but purrs, low and enticing. “That really is a compliment. But I hate to disappoint you - this really is just a bakery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter purses his lips, studying Neal closely. He can find no traces of deception in Neal’s open expression, but that tells him nothing - Neal is a very hard man to read. “No funny business, you hear me?” he says. “I’ll be watching, and I’d really rather not have to put you back in prison.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter, I’m touched,” Neal says, shaking his head. “But I’m going straight now, or haven’t you seen my blog?” Peter resolutely doesn’t answer, but that in itself appears to be answer enough. Neal gasps and points at him, glee written all over his face. “You have! I knew it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get yourself in a twist,” Peter warns him. “I’m just checking up on you, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Neal’s enthusiasm is not to be deterred. “Sure, sure,” he says, grinning up at him. “Now unless you have something else, what can I get for my number one fan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter glares at him, but relents soon enough under the onslaught of Neal’s good humor. “Oh all right,” he says, “I’ll have…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Neal holds up a hand, and Peter falls quiet in spite of himself. “No, don’t tell me,” he says. “You’ll have…” he pauses, and for a moment, Peter has the strange feeling that Neal seems to be looking into his very soul. Then, the moment passes and Neal smiles. “A sugar cookie for you and a slice of key lime pie for your lovey wife.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter gapes. “How did you do that?” he wants to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neal just smirks and ducks behind the case. “You know everything about me,” he says simply. “You don’t think I know just as much about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter sighs and shakes his head as Neal sets a paper bag in front of him with a flourish. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” he admits easily. “How much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neal tells him, and he hands the money over. Their fingertips brush, and Peter feels himself flush, unable to help it. Neal looks down hastily, but the corner of his mouth is turned up, and Peter has the strong suspicion he’s being laughed at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then,” Neal says. “Until next time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter huffs in response, trying to look as stern as he can manage. He hopes he’s more successful than he feels. “I’ll be watching, Caffrey,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neal smiles at him. “I’d expect nothing less.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter does some serious angsting. The boys have some shit to work through. But never fear, days of fluff and happiness are around the corner!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Because no one does angst like these two. This is (probably) the most angsty we’ll get in this story. I wanted to echo what we get over and over in the show: one minute they’ll be fine, and the next Peter will question Neal and Neal will get all defensive and lash out. Here, they’ll get a chance to move past it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The following days are filled with restless anticipation. Time passes slowly, like honey dripping from a spoon. Peter goes to the office, works his cases with all his usual diligence, but he feels like he’s moving through the days in a dreamlike haze. If the team notices anything, none of them say a word - except Diana, who raises her eyebrows at him and nudges him pointedly whenever he’s about to space out.</p><p>And still, Peter waits.</p><p>He waits for Neal to be flagged, for some heist to cross his desk that looks just like something Caffrey would do, but days go by and still: nothing.</p><p>By all rights, it shouldn’t bother him so much, Peter knows that. Neal’s total lack of any activity that looks suspicious could be a good thing. Maybe Neal really is going straight now, just as he claimed the other day. Then again, this is Neal Caffrey, and this lack of suspicious activity seems suspicious in itself. Or perhaps El is right, and he’s just been chasing Neal so long he doesn’t know how to do anything else. He’s never had the luxury of looking at Neal as himself, and not a suspect he’s investigating.</p><p>Peter steeples his fingers and leans back in his chair, thinking. Could he ever learn to think of Neal as anything other than a suspect? More importantly, does he <em> want </em> to? Even asking the question feels necessarily dangerous. In Peter’s experience, one should not want to be friends with a con man. That way lies only disappointment.</p><p>But this is Neal, and Peter seems prone to making questionable decisions when Neal is involved. By all rights, he should leave Neal be. If he had any sense, he would forget about Neal Caffrey. But this is Neal, and Peter knows he cannot let this go. This is Neal, and Peter knows he could never forget the man who burst into the everyday tedium of his life with laughter and brilliance, who painted his world in color.</p><p>At the end of the day, Peter is left with more questions than answers. Only one thing is certain: Peter knows he will be going to see Neal again.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The next day, Peter stops by The Greatest Cake before he goes to the office. He goes first thing, when the city is still waking up and the tourists haven’t yet mobbed the streets.</p><p>The bells on the door tinkle invitingly, just like before. Music is still playing on the radio, a piano solo this time. The morning sunlight filters through the windows, painting everything in a soft golden glow. Dust hangs in the air, seemingly suspended in time. The moment stretches on, and Peter holds his breath, unexpectedly enchanted.</p><p>Then, with a sudden flurry of movement, Neal bursts through the kitchen doors in an explosion of sound.</p><p>“Hello Neal,” Peter says, and Neal freezes, the trays in his arms swaying dangerously.</p><p>“Dammit,” Neal bites out, managing to save the trays before they topple to the ground. “You can’t just sneak up on a person like that, Peter.”</p><p>He sets the trays on the counter and Peter leans forward with interest to see a fresh batch of croissants and scones ready for the shelves. “I might point out that you should be used to it by now,” he says lightly.</p><p>Neal shoots him a deeply unimpressed look. “I’m out of practice,” he tells him shortly. “I’m going straight now, or weren’t you listening before?”</p><p>Peter‘s fingers unconsciously clench into fists, and he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. They always seem to go in circles and circles, with no resolutions and no answers, just more mistrust and resentment. This isn’t helping anyone. He studies Neal, who’s placing his pastries in the case with care, pointedly avoiding Peter’s gaze. Peter sighs.</p><p>“That’s the part I don’t get,” he says. “Why? Help me understand.”</p><p>“I don’t owe you anything,” Neal claims fiercely, crossing his arms over his chest.</p><p>“I know,” Peter says, “I know. But I’m trying to understand. I don’t always want to think of you as the guy I put in prison. So tell me something true and…”</p><p>“And what? All is forgiven?” Neal’s voice is hard and mocking, his eyes black as flint. Neal has never looked at him like this, like an enemy, even when he put him in cuffs. Peter won’t deny that it hurts, more than he imagined. But there must be a way for them to get past this endless cycle. There has to be.</p><p>Peter swallows, and looks Neal in the eye. “No,” he says, “I won’t lie to you. It won’t be easy. But it will be a start.”</p><p>Some of the anger dims from Neal’s eyes as he studies Peter closely. “And you’ll believe me?” he asks, incredulous.</p><p>Peter smiles. “Try me,” he says.</p><p>Neal sighs then, and sits heavily in the stool behind the counter. Out on the street, the city is waking up. Buses trundle by and taxi horns blare in the distance. Here in the bakery, the seconds tick on as Neal looks at him and Peter looks right back.</p><p>“Okay, fine,” Neal says at last. “I assume by now you’ve found our Kate left me a few months before my sentence was up.” Peter nods, and Neal purses his lips. “Well, when she was gone, I had no more plans, no one waiting for me. I had a choice. I could either ship out, or I could stay here.” He looks up at Peter, his gaze steady. “I chose to stay.”</p><p>“Why?” Peter asks, his throat dry.</p><p>Neal gives him a small, sad smile. “I’m tired of running,” he says simply.</p><p>The words hang in the air between them, and Peter nods. “I believe you,” he says.</p><p>Neal’s smile grows, as if he can’t quite believe it, and Peter’s lips quirk in response. He was right - this single moment hasn’t healed everything between them. Burned bridges take a long time to rebuild, after all. But Peter looks at Neal, at his smile breaking free, and he feels hopeful. This is a new start, and he means to make the most of it.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which there is awkward flirting. Neal is flustered; Peter is amused. But is there a hint of trouble on the horizon? Only time will tell...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Today I come bearing unrepentant fluff! I am in season 4 of my rewatch, so this is my way of dealing with all the DRAMA of season 4. This is when the show started going downhill for me... I hate how they seem to think they can only have an interesting show if Peter and Neal are constantly at odds. They deserve some fluff!!!</p>
<p>Anyway... have you heard the chatter about a possible White Collar revival? Apparently Jeff Eastin, Matt Bomer, and Tim Dekay have all been tweeting about it. I know I would be down for it!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They settle into a routine of sorts, after that. Peter stops by in the mornings before work, sometimes even before the bakery is officially open. He bangs on the door to see Neal look over from behind the counter, a wide sunshine smile curving his lips when he sees who it is. Neal lets Peter in, grumbling about nosy busybodies all the while, but his eyes tell another story as they dance and sparkle in the morning light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neal knows all of Peter’s favorites by now, after nearly a week of their new routine. First, he sets one of his newest breakfast pastries on the counter with a flourish. Then, he makes Peter coffee without being asked and places it in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes meet Peter’s as they share the undeniable comfort of the understanding that comes from being known, the inherent vulnerability involved in discovering another person’s habits and likes and dislikes. They are slowly beginning to know each other as they really are, the wall of resentment and misunderstandings between them coming down brick by brick. Peter can’t say that he minds. In fact, he doesn’t mind at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he doesn’t know how to put any of this into words, and something in Neal’s eyes tells him that he doesn’t need to. Instead, Peter smiles at him in thanks and raises the mug to his lips, his eyelids fluttering closed as he inhales the scent. He savors the first sip of the strong Italian Roast every time - it is thick, rich, and perfect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet, it is only one of the many reasons he keeps coming here. It is only one of the many reasons he can’t seem to stay away. Another reason is the look on Neal’s face when he opens his eyes, his dazed expression giving him the air of someone who’s been hit over the head with a bat. Peter hides his amusement and waits until Neal seems to come back to himself, his mouth snapping closed as he glares at Peter like this is all his fault.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for the coffee,” Peter says mildly as Neal hastily turns his attention back to stocking the case.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any time,” Neal replies, his voice muffled as he ducks out of sight. If his cheeks are slightly flushed, if he keeps darting sidelong looks at Peter, if he stumbles over his words more than usual the rest of the morning, Peter is gracious enough not to mention it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neal once described flirtation as a dance, and this, whatever is happening between them, it feels like a dance now. Peter likes seeing Neal flustered and off his game more than he knows what to do with, and he’s content to see where it leads. But for now, he’ll simply enjoy the dance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because the truth is, Peter is finding that he just plain </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> Neal, more than he ever expected. He knows he’s falling fast, and that he’ll have to talk to El, about what exactly they might be prepared for if the dance goes on much longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But for now, he won’t worry about the future, or the past. He’ll enjoy the moment - as he knows he’ll enjoy every moment he spends in Neal’s company. That, he thinks, is the true reason that keeps him coming back. He wants to be here. He wants to be here, with Neal.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A few days later, Neal lets him in looking mutinous, a scowl on his face. “You know,” he snaps, “if you’re going to be sending your Agents into my bakery, you could at least give me a little warning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter raises his eyebrows. “My Agents?” he asks, confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neal glares at him, his movements unusually rough as he makes Peter his coffee. “Yeah. Ms. Intimidating Ponytail and Mr. Deceptively Mild-mannered. Gave Alex quite the scare, not that she’d ever admit it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Peter says, wondering if it was really </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alex</span>
  </em>
  <span> they were talking about here. “That would be Diana and Jones, who I most definitely did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> send here.” He smiles reassuringly at Neal, who’s still looking unconvinced. “They’re probably just curious. You do realize nearly half of the White Collar unit is following your blog by now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some of the tension eases from Neal’s shoulders, and a smile spreads across his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Really?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he asks with great interest. He looks all but delighted at the news, and Peter can’t help feeling as though he’s somehow made a grave tactical error.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They are FBI Agents,” he says hastily. “It’s their job to keep appraised of current events.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, of course,” Neal agrees easily, but there’s a new light to his eyes and a new edge to his smile that twists a knot of anxiety in Peter’s stomach. He’s plotting something, Peter is sure of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Neal, whatever you’re thinking…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neal sighs. “Oh, come on Peter,” he says. “Do you have to be so suspicious all the time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter frowns at him. “It’s literally in my job description,” he says sternly. “Neal, just… don’t do anything stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neal spreads his hands. “Peter, it’s me. Would I ever?” Peter raises his eyebrows, and Neal purses his lips in amusement. “Okay, point,” he says. “Would it help if I said you have nothing to worry about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peter studies him. “Nothing illegal?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neal nods. “I swear on your morning coffee,” he says solemnly, and Peter bursts into laughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now I know you’re serious,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They settle into companionable silence, and Perer wonders if it will ever fade - this urge to keep Neal safe, to protect him, even and most especially from himself. Privately, he doubts it. Neal is important, and if he’s only realizing it now… well. It’s been a long time in coming, and he can put up with a lot, for that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he’ll believe in Neal, because he gets the feeling so few have. He will watch and wait, and hope, and and trust, because he knows that Neal is worth it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you can’t tell, I love Awkward!Neal. And Awkward!Peter! They’re both so bad at this, but that’s why it’s so goooood.</p>
<p>Coming up: We’ll find out when Neal + shenanigans is actually a good thing. We’ll meet Mozzie (er... Haversham). And Peter will finally have that talk with El.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sometimes life is stranger than fiction. Peter works through the secrets of the heart.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have no excuse for this. Enjoy this bit of ridiculousness!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey, boss?” Diana says as she pokes her head in his office, her face scrunched up in what Peter has come to think of her patented ‘dealing with Caffrey’ expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter purses his lips together and tries not to smile. “What’s Neal done now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diana frowns. “It’s… well… he left a kind of treasure map? For the Agents. On his blog”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Peter says slowly, raising his eyebrows. He’d been expecting Neal would be up to something after their conversation, but he sure hadn’t expected this. A treasure map… well. Leave it to Neal Caffrey to keep things exciting. “And what exactly is at the end of this treasure map?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diana grins then, and the tension breaks. “That’s just it. It doesn’t lead to anything in particular… just Neal.” She hands him her phone, showing him a photo Jones sent her of Neal holding court in the middle of a group of Agents. “You think he’s planning something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter shakes his head. “Worst case scenario, he’s learning what he can about the people who might be investigating him if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> try something. Best case scenario, he’s being friendly. It’s Neal being Neal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is a con man ever ‘just’ being friendly?” Diana asks, sounding skeptical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter smiles. “Neal isn’t ever ‘just’ anything. But the friendliness isn’t always part of the con - it’s who he is. I think there’s a part of him that just </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> people, and wants them to like him in return - as Neal Caffrey, not the con man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he finishes speaking, Peter looks up to see Diana studying him fondly, a knowing look in her eyes, and he wills himself not to blush. “You really do know him well, don’t you?” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like to think I’m getting there,” Peter agrees easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diana nods, her eyes on his. “You want to go there, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t need to,” Peter protests. “I’ve got work to do here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t give me that,” Diana says. “It’s Saturday, and the only thing you’ve got here are mortgage fraud cases. Come on, you know you want to see him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter stares at her for a moment and then huffs a laugh, sliding back from his desk. “Am I really that transparent?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diana smiles and hooks her arm through his. “Only to those who really know you,” she says cheerfully. “Don’t worry, boss, your secret is safe with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter returns her smile absently, anxiety still twisting his stomach into knots. What is his secret? he wonders. It seems everyone always knows his own feelings before he’s figured them out himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he knows is that he likes Neal - </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> likes him. He likes him more than he probably should, and he desperately wants Neal to like him in return. He wants Neal to think of him as more than just the stuffy FBI Agent ehobonce put him in cuffs. He wants Neal to know him - the real Peter Burke - and to want him just as he is. Maybe, Peter thinks, they aren’t so different after all, in the end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter returns home feeling unusually pensive and subdued. His suspicions had been right - Neal hadn’t seemed to be up to anything in particular. Instead, he seemed determined to charm everyone in sight, using all the not inconsiderable talents at his disposal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because that’s just who Neal is, in the end. Neal is bright and brilliant and… beautiful. That is the only word for it, Peter knows now. He can’t deny it any longer - not that he was ever putting up much of a fight against his own feelings in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There he was, standing on the edge of the crowd, sipping a drink and watching, eioying the simplicity of the fond warmth curling through him. In the middle of a sentence, Neal had glanced his way and spotted him and time seemed to stand still as that familiar sunshine smile spread over Neal’s face. Peter normally wasn’t one for sappy romantic cliches, but in that moment, all he could think was that Neal was not merely beautiful - he took Peter’s breath away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, Peter knows that wherever this is going, this thing with Neal, he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t. Neal feels essential to him, as necessary as breathing. Neal is important to him, and it still takes Peter off guard, the urge to hold Neal close and keep him safe, the unspoken fear that he can never let go, or Neal will be gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the rational side of Peter knows that it’s not just his decision. Whatever happens next, Neal gets a say, too. And so does Elizabeth, because Peter won’t go into anything without her. Whatever happens next, it will be their decision - all three of them, together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, Peter is resolved. He walks into the living room, where he finds El curled up on the couch, a book open on her lap. “Hi, hon,” he says, as he bends to kiss her softly, his fingers sliding into her hair. She hums into his mouth and sighs contentedly when he leans against her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” she says as she drapes an arm around his shoulders. “What is it you want to talk about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter starts against her, and then snorts, surprised. “How do you do that?” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my secret talent,” Elizabeth tells him, giving him a cheeky smile as her fingers stroke through the short hairs at the naps of his neck. “So? What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter takes a deep breath. “We have to talk about Neal,” he says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter slides into the car the next morning with a smile on his face. This is nothing unusual it itself - mornings are traditionally time for Neal, and Peter can’t help but smile when Neal is involved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this time, it’s not him who’s going to see Neal - it’s Elizabeth, and somehow that is even more exciting. Their conversation last night had cleared up a few things that had Peter on edge and brought more revelations to light as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, Elizabeth always knew that Neal was going to be a part of their life together and was simply waiting for Peter to catch on. Apparently, she more than accepted Peter’s feelings - she shared them. She wanted to know Neal too, and Peter couldn’t stop smiling with the knowledge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So as he turns on the radio, it’s more for background noise than anything else. The real song he hears is the racing of his pulse, the beating of his heart. It’s new and exciting and so completely distracting that he fails to notice all is not as it seems until there’s a rustle in the back seat and a short bald man with thick glasses sits up behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep driving if you want to live,” the man says shortly, pointing what appears to be a corkscrew in Peter’s direction. “And before you ask, no, you don’t know me, Suit. You can call me Haversham. Dante Haversham.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter slowly lets out a breath. Whoever this guy is, he doesn’t appear to be the usual sort Peter deals with. “Okay, Mr. Haversham,” he says in his ‘let’s talk about this calmly’ voice. “Why don’t you tell me what this is about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Mr. Haversham’ brandishes the corkscrew threateningly. “I ask the questions, Suit,” he says. “Now tell me: what are your intentions with Neal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Peter freezes, startled. Then, he smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Neal and Peter finally admit what they want from each other.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, you know the “get together” tag is there for a reason... the moment is finally here! I’m thinking there might just be one more chapter after this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So,” Peter says, leaning up against a table in the middle of The Greatest Cake’s kitchen as Neal kneads dough beside him.</p><p>Neal raises a brow. “So?” he repeats, his lips quirking in amusement.</p><p>“So I met your little guy,” Peter says casually.</p><p>Neal snorts. “Ah,” he says. Short, occasionally bad tempered, and impressively paranoid?”</p><p>“And wielding a corkscrew,” Peter adds with a nod.</p><p>“I bet that was something,” Neal says. “He can be an… acquired taste, but he’s a good friend. What did he want?”</p><p>Peter hesitates, his eyes on Neal. He doesn’t want to presume, and most of all he doesn’t want to lose what they have now, but at the same time he knows that they can’t go back. The only way forward is just that: forward.</p><p>“He wanted to know what my intentions were,” he says. “With you.”</p><p>Neal’s hands still for a moment on the dough and his breath hitches. His eyelids briefly flutter closed and he swallows, tight and deliberate. He opens his eyes and goes back to the dough.</p><p>“And what did you tell him?” Neal asks, his voice remarkably calm. He kneads in steady, even movements, his muscles flexing and contracting as he works, all strength and focus and attention. Peter can’t help but wonder what that would feel like, if Neal was that focused on him. He clears his throat.</p><p>“I told him the truth,” Peter says, and Neal looks up, drawn by the warmth in his voice.</p><p>“The truth,” Neal repeats softly, his eyes unusually bright, “is a rare and precious thing for people like us.”</p><p>“I know,” Peter tells him simply, holding Neal’s gaze. “You deserve nothing less.”</p><p>Neal smiles, hesitant and hopeful. “I met your wife this week. I know you don’t do that for just anyone.”</p><p>Peter nods. “You’re not wrong,” he says. “And she’s come back every day. She likes you, Neal.” He pauses. “<em> We </em> like you.” Neal stares back at him, his eyes wide, and Peter smiles. “You know what we’re offering,” he says. “We’re not exactly subtle. Just… think about it. You don’t have to say anything right away.”</p><p>“I have thought about it,” Neal blurts, and Peter blinks in surprise. Neal looks at him and swallows, his face flooding with color. “I have thought about it,” Neal repeats, quieter this time. “But they were only thoughts, and I knew nothing would come of it. You’re both happy, and perfect together, and I… I don’t deserve that.”</p><p>“Oh, Neal,” Peter sighs. He steps forward, slowly closing the distance between them. “Don’t ever think that. You deserve happiness, as much as anyone else. But this isn’t about what we deserve,” he continues, stopping right in front of Neal when there’s only a few inches of space left between them. “Neal,” he says. “You know what we want. What do <em> you </em> want?”</p><p>For a moment, Neal stares at him. His lips are parted, his eyes wide. His hair is gloriously disheveled after a long day in the kitchen, and there’s a smudge of flour on his cheekbone, long forgotten. His apron hugs his chest in all the right ways, drawing attention to the lean, toned muscles of his shoulders and his arms. Peter knows that he could look at him like this for hours, and never want to stop. And still, Neal is staring back at him, as though frozen in place.</p><p>“Neal?” Peter asks, gripping him by the shoulders.</p><p>Neal blinks and focuses back on him, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Ask me again,” he says.</p><p>“What do you want?” Peter whispers. “Whatever you want - Neal <em> anything…” </em></p><p>Slowly, Neal reaches up to curl his hand around Peter’s neck, his fingers playing with the short hairs there. Just like El, Peter thinks with a jolt of happiness. Neal’s smile widens, lighting him up from within, and he leans in close. “Everything,” Neal says. “I want everything.”</p><p>Peter smiles, and kisses him.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Kissing Neal is better that Peter ever dared to imagine. Kissing Neal is heady and intoxicating and Peter wants him closer; Peter wants <em> more. </em> He presses forward, bringing them flush against each other, and Neal moans, his fingers gripping tight on Peter’s hips before fumbling with Peter’s shirt, tugging it out of his pants. And then Neal’s hands are on his skin, palms sliding up his chest. Neal’s thumb brushes a nipple, and Peter gasps, biting down hard on Neal’s lower lip.</p><p>“Peter,” Neal moans, his hands clenching tight in Peter’s hair. “Peter, Peter.” Neal murmurs his name over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer, and Peter shudders, holds him close, kisses him again and again and again.</p><p>“Peter,” Neal says, using his grip on his hair to tilt his head back and look into his eyes. Neal’s eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, ringed by sparkling blue. Peter returns Neal’s steady, fathomless gaze and he knows that he’s falling, falling, falling. Somehow, he knows he was always going to fall for this man. His heart beating fast against his ribs, Peter leans his forehead to Neal’s while they catch their breath, one hand splayed on Neal’s back and the other tangled in his hair.</p><p>Neal swallows then, the sound audible in the space between them. “Peter, are you <em> sure,” </em> he says. “Peter, you have to be sure, because if you ask me to let you go after this I don’t think I can…” He closes his eyes and lets out a breath, slow and deliberate. When he looks back at Peter, his gaze is as open and vulnerable as Peter has ever seen him - hope and fear and loss all laid bare before him. “Please don’t ask me to let you go,” he says, low and desperate.</p><p>“I would never do that to you,” Peter promises. “This isn’t a game. You can feel that, can’t you? You can feel…” Peter takes one of Neal’s hands and places it over his heart. “You <em> know </em> how I feel,” he says. It’s not a question and it’s not meant to be - he sees the truth of it in Neal’s eyes. “So believe me when I say I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>Neal stares back at him, his lips parted, and his eyes wide. Peter can feel how tightly he’s holding himself, how he’s struggling to keep his walls up, the last line of defense around his heart. He can feel the moment when Neal decides to believe him, the moment he surrenders. All the tension bleeds out of him, and he sinks into Peter’s embrace, putting himself entirely in Peter’s hands. The message is clear, and it takes Peter’s breath away.</p><p>“Okay,” Neal says. “I trust you.”</p><p>“Neal,” Peter breathes, soft and wondering as he traces the curve of Neal’s lips with a thumb. He presses a kiss to Neal’s lips, soft and chaste. It feels like a promise, and from the way Neal leans into him, Peter thinks he understands. “What do you want?”</p><p>A slow smile spreads across Neal’s lips. He spreads his legs and pulls Peter between them, and both of them groan at the friction, sudden and intense.</p><p>“Okay,” Peter says between kisses as their hands fumble with the clothes between them. “Okay. I can work with that.” He hooks his hands under Neal’s thighs and lifts him up to set him on the table.</p><p>For a moment, he’s a little distracted by the change in angle - Neal is now that much taller than him, which means that Peter has to lean up into their kisses as Neal plunders his mouth with his tongue, and that is new and exciting and… well. Peter is very definitely not complaining.</p><p>“Mmm,” Neal hums, licking at the seam of Peter’s lips and wrapping his legs snug around Peter’s waist. “I like this plan,” he says.</p><p>“I thought you might,” Peter says, cupping Neal’s face between his hands. He nudges their noses together, and Neal’s lips quirk up, his eyes bright. “I’m good at plans.”</p><p>Neal laughs and Peter can <em> feel </em> it, and he thinks that might just be the best thing in the world. “I know,” Neal says. <em> I trust you, </em> is what he means, and Peter knows he means it, just as he knows he’ll prove himself worthy of that trust every single day. Neal is worth it. Neal is worth… everything.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everything changes after that, and yet the important things remain the same.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, it’s done! This AU has been so much fun to write. Thanks to everyone who’s been following along for being the best kind of motivation. Here’s a fluffy little epilogue to round off the story. </p>
<p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everything changes after that, and yet the important things remain the same.</p>
<p>Peter still comes to the Greatest Cake in the mornings and El stops by in the evenings or whenever Peter can’t make it. Neal still keeps Peter’s favorite Italian Roast on hand, and he always makes sure a few of Peter and Elizabeth’s favorite pastries find their way into the case without even needing to ask.</p>
<p>Even their friends are beginning to overlap. Alex is growing used to them (at least Peter thinks so - she does tend to smile at them more than she glares, these days, which Neal assures him is a good sign). Mozzie still appears at their house at random (they still can’t work out what exactly Mozzie does for a living. Neal will only say that he does some type of “freelancing,” which is tantalizingly vague, even for Neal. Peter decides he probably doesn’t want to know.)</p>
<p>Meanwhile, the entire the entire White Collar unit has become avid fans of the Greatest Cake (and Neal’s blog by extension). Neal himself makes frequent deliveries to the office so the Agents can get their sugar fix. And by now, it’s an open secret that Neal is more than just a friend to Peter and Elizabeth, so no one questions it when Neal makes occasional ‘special deliveries’ to Peter’s office and emerges fifteen minutes later with his shirt a little rumpled, his eyes bright, and his hair a wreck.</p>
<p>Sometimes, after a particularly interminable day in the van, there will be a knock on the door. Peter will step out to find Neal standing there with coffee and snacks, a wide grin on his face, and Peter will shake his head, unable to hide a smile of his own. “I’m not even going to ask,” he says. “I’m a man of many talents,” Neal responds. Peter rolls his eyes and pulls him in for a kiss, chaste and fleeting. “I know,” he says.</p>
<p>But Peter thinks that his favorite moments are when the three of them are all together at home, relaxing after a long day of work. He’ll come down the stairs to find El and Neal leaning over the stove together, and Peter will simply stand there and watch them for a moment, warmth curling in his chest at the sight.</p>
<p>Everything in his life has fallen into place so perfectly, and he can’t imagine wanting anything more. He never thought his heart could hold this much love, and yet here they are. Neal has changed everything for the better and Peter wouldn’t have it any other way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>E N D</p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
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